


The Way It Should Have Gone

by boychik



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Comedy, Drama, Laser Sharks, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/pseuds/boychik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock went in for the fist bump but John left him hanging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Should Have Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Collabo with my lil bro. S1E3 alternate ending ft. Moriarty’s dying declaration of love. No spoilers for S2+ pls.

“The bombs on this vest are just constructed from duct tape and toilet paper tubes,” John complained.

“Th-that’s not true!” Moriarty stuttered gayly. “What a fool you must be to believe that!”

John ripped the makeshift “bomb” from the vest and hurled it across the tile floor. He pulled out his L9A1 semiautomatic and aimed it straight at Moriarty’s big gay forehead.

I don’t understand!” Moriarty protested gayly. “I made it with real C4 and everything!”

Just then, Sherlock busted into the room.

“Sup bitches,” he said. “How’s my favorite homie?” Sherlock went in for the fist bump but John left him hanging.

John sighed deeply. “Sherlock, _please_. You’ll embarrass us in front of _criminals_.”

“A master criminal, technically,” interjected Moriarty gayly.

“Done and done,” Sherlock said.

“That’s only one thing,” John said.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Sherlock said. He kissed John gently on the eyelids.

 “I have eyes, you know,” Moriarty whined gayly. “And a little thing called a HEART!”

“Unluckily for you,” Sherlock said.

“Damn it, Sherlock! Why can’t you see that the person who loves you is right in front of you!”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Sherlock said, giving John’s hand a squeeze.

Moriarty would have cried, but he was too evil for tears.

Sherlock’s gaze focused on the TP tube John had ripped from his chest and hurled to the tile.

 “It’s not elementary, Watson, it’s bloody obvious!”

“Sherlock, I don’t think—“

“These toilet paper tubes came from the Czech Republic. They’re printed with the insignia for the Czech Republic’s premier—"

“Sherlock—”

 “—toilet paper factory. However, the ink is smudged, not something a high-caliber quality control department like the Czech’s would allow. These rolls are a forgery!”

“Sherlock, please!”

“Furthermore, these tubes are worn but not well-worn, indicating a frequent pooper. Who do we know who has a gigantic ass? There’s only one man that large!”

“GODDAMNIT, SHERLOCK!”

“There is only one possible conclusion: The Golem wiped his ass with THIS VERY ROLL! And Moriarty fished it out of his trash just to make this bomb!”

“My god, you’re brilliant,” said John. Overcome by awe, he accidentally shot Moriarty in the chest.

“Right in the heart,” gasped Moriarty gayly. “If there’s one thing about you, John, you really know how to make a metaphor spring to life.”

“The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his chest,” observed Sherlock, dry as a Bond martini.

“Like I said, positively brilliant,” said John.

Sherlock lowered his tall face to John’s. “Such enthusiasm deserves to be rewarded, my dove.” They Eskimo kissed in a gentle caress of noses, rubbing in a sensuous dance.

“I like your parka,” Sherlock said.

“Just like real Eskimos,” John said adoringly.

“Will the domestics never stop with you two?” Moriarty declared gayly. “You’re almost gayer than I am!”

He coughed gayly. “Sherlock, I just want you to know one thing before I go…I have always lo—”

“I _know_ , Moriarty,” Sherlock said impatiently. “Just tell me who you work for already!”

Moriarty’s voice was now but a whisper. To Moriarty’s joy, Sherlock leaned in closer to hear.

“Hudson…” Moriarty croaked gayly as he croaked slowly. “ _Hudson_ …”

“Whatever could he mean?” said John. “The Hudson Bay? The Hudson River?”

“John, sometimes you are so dense I wonder that you are a human being and not a black hole,” Sherlock said.

“ _Buuuurn_ ,” Moriarty whispered gayly. He cackled softly, almost sweetly, as blood seeped from his wound.

“Aren’t you bloody dead yet?!” Sherlock huffed one his infamous huffy breaths.

“I am bloody, but I’m not dead y—” But just then, Moriarty died as gayly as he lived.

“Hudson, Hudson, where have I heard that name before…Seriously guys, what the fuck is foreshadowing?” asked John. “Please, Sherlock, I need a smart, strong, beautiful man to tell me how to recognize common narrative tropes in my own life.”

“Oh baby,” Sherlock crooned, mere inches from Moriarty’s corpse.

Not a moment too soon, none other than Mrs. Hudson stepped out from the shadows. Her cruel, piercing laughter echoed through the room.

“Called it,” said John. He snapped his fingers in a Z formation.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said calmly. “Down for a cuppa?”

Mrs. Hudson did not respond. Dozens of little red dots appeared on John and Sherlock, as if they had suddenly come down with measles, or had attracted the attention of twelve angry laser sharks.

“Where are all these lasers coming from?” John wondered. “Are lasers even real?”

Sherlock explained in great detail how lasers work.

“Oh,” said John. “I never thought of that.”

Before Sherlock could counter with a sassy remark, Mrs. Hudson screamed.

 ** _“DEATH TRAP ACTIVATE!”_** All of a sudden, the walls started closing in on them. Jets of water shot up from the pool, flooding the increasingly narrow space as it filled with sharks. Spikes rose up from the ceiling and the ground, nearly spearing Johnlock. Simultaneously, jets of flame and deadly chlorine gas burst from concealed vents in the ceiling. Mrs. Hudson activated her personal jetpack and flew off through the skylight.

“Oh dear,” Sherlock sighed, his expression as dour as ever.

John turned to the one man who could save them both. _What can we do?!_ his big brown puppy-dog eyes asked.

Sherlock somehow managed to choke out the one phrase anathema to him: “I don’t know.” Admitting this pushed him to the verge of tears, but held back because he needed to be manly for John and also to not die.

Suddenly, John had an epiphany. “Sherlock, use the Google!”

Sherlock scrolled furiously through the Wikipedia article on lasers. The laser sharks were closing in. “Shit shit shit…”

“Sherlock, the skylight!” John exclaimed. “The skylight, the vest, the skylight!”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Sherlock finally managed to parse John’s poorly-communicated plan. Dodging laser sharks, the pair managed to build a rope out of duct tape and discarded TP tubes and climb to freedom.

Running from the now rapidly-collapsing pool, John was at a loss for words. Sherlock finally let his emotions free. Hot, wet tears and streamed over the angular peaks and gaunt valleys of his nearly shark-mauled cheeks, streaking his badgerly face. The two men embraced fiercely.

London was once again safe for their love.

CUT TO BLACK


End file.
